


What They Don't Know Could Definitely Ruin Their Assassination Plot

by Quinny_555



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), Assassins & Hitmen, Awesome Gwen (Merlin), BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Bruin is just confused, M/M, Merlin and Gwen are BESTIES don't @ me, POV Outsider, Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Sassy Merlin (Merlin), just because
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:02:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27866569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinny_555/pseuds/Quinny_555
Summary: He observed the doors for two nights more, and it remained the same. No guards. Either the King was extremely confident or extremely foolish. He was both, it seemed.OrThe royal family employs no bodyguards. A would-be assassin discovers why.
Relationships: Gwen & Merlin (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 535





	What They Don't Know Could Definitely Ruin Their Assassination Plot

Bruin kept his head down as he strolled through the castle halls. The peasant garb he wore chafed slightly at his skin, which was used to cloth fit for royalty. Though duty demanded he do some recon, he would much rather have come by night and killed the king in his sleep. He had learned the hard way, however, that ‘quick and unprepared’ were a bad combination. The old arrow wound in his shoulder twinged and he grimaced. 

“You there,” said a voice from behind him. They sounded too arrogant to be a servant, and he didn't much feel like dealing with nobility at the moment. But this was the disguise he had chosen, so he relaxed his shoulders and turned to the voice. 

He turned to find the newly crowned King Arthur himself standing before him. He stifled a grin; this was just perfect. He bowed his head. 

“Yes, milord?” he responded differentially. He lifted his eyes to study the King. He was as noble-looking as the stories portrayed him to be; golden hair, a rich red cape, tanned skin, a straight, proud posture. His eyes were drawn to movement behind the king, to where a man who was presumably the King’s personal servant stood. The servant was practically his master’s opposite in every way, all unruly raven locks and pale skin; compared to the king, he looked as though a strong breeze would knock him over. He wore a purple shirt and a red scarf, both items finer than should be possible on a servant's salary. 

“I need a bath sent up to my rooms. See to it,” The King ordered brusquely. Bruin bowed and escaped around a corner, quickly slipping into an alcove that was covered by a Pendragon red tapestry. 

“You don’t have to be so rude all the time, you know.” Bruin’s eyebrows shot up; that had to be the servant. 

“Merlin,” the King growled in a warning tone. The servant, Merlin, didn't seem to hear the threat. 

“Just because you're a royal prat doesn't mean that you should talk to the serving staff that way.” Bruin waited for the sound of the servant being hit for his insolence, or perhaps sent for some other punishment. Instead, the King just huffed. 

“What would you like me to do, _Mer_ lin? Do you want me to apologize to that servant for being curt next time I see him?” The King’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. The servant hummed thoughtfully. 

“It certainly wouldn't go amiss.” There were the sounds of a scuffle and the servant squawked indignantly. “Oi! Let go of me you dollop head!” The King grunted. 

“Still not a word.” The servant grumbled something under his breath. “What was that?” 

“Oh, nothing to worry your huge head about, sire.” The King scoffed. “I promised I would help Gwen with laundry today.” 

“ _Mer_ lin, you're _my_ servant. Your job is to serve _me_.” 

“I’ll see you for dinner, sire,” the servant called as he walked away. Bruin sat back and tried to process _what_ he had just heard. 

Servants didn't speak that way to their masters. It simply wasn't done. So why would the King himself of all people allow such insolence from a lowly serving boy. He ducked out of the alcove when he was sure the hall was clear. When he ran into a servant he informed them that the King required a bath sent up to his room; no need to arouse suspicion by not getting the job done. 

He considered what his next move should be. Finding the king so soon after he had seen him the first time would be suspicious. However, seeing as he was dressed as a servant, it wouldn't be strange to run into another servant. He made his way toward the laundry rooms. 

Turns out that not being sure what to do is not something that will seem out of place for servants. Not because servants were lazy or listless, but because they were very understanding when another servant seemed clueless. 

“I take it you're new?” He turned to face the speaker, a black servant with long, curly hair.

“Um, yes, I suppose I am,” he replied, allowing himself to sound embarrassed by that. She smiled a sweet, understanding smile. 

“I’m Gwen. And don't worry, you're not the first and you certainly won't be the last,” she said with a laugh. “The new steward likes to send them in blind and let them muddle through. Let me show you how this works.” She led him over to where several maids sat, folding the now dry laundry. Soon he was sitting beside her, folding shirts. 

“Merlin!” Gwen greeted. He turned to see the King’s servant flopping down onto the floor beside Gwen. 

“Gwen, light of my life,” he greeted with a wide grin. “Sorry I'm late. You know how his royal prattiness is.” Gwen raised her eyebrows, unimpressed, and tilted her head to indicate Bruin. Merlin blinked, only just seeming to realize he was there. “Oh, hello!” 

“Ignore him,” Gwen told Bruin, smiling fondly. “He’s incorrigible.” 

“I resent that,” Merlin informed her as he reached for a pair of trousers from her pile. “I’m Merlin, by the way.” He squinted. “And you're that servant Arthur was rude to.” Bruin resisted the urge to grimace slightly at being remembered. He forced a smile. 

“The King? I’d say he was well within his rights,” he said carefully, testing the servant’s resolve. 

“Don't let him hear you say that,” Merlin muttered. “If his head gets any larger, he won't be able to fit through the door.” Gwen slapped his arm. 

“Merlin,” she scolded. He threw his hands up. 

“What? It’s true,” he defended. She narrowed her eyes and he sighed. “All right, fine.” He turned back to the laundry he was folding and Gwen hid a smile. Theirs was a very interesting dynamic indeed. 

~~~ 

Bruin watched the doors to the king’s chambers, bemused. There were no guards, which in and of itself was strange. What kind of royal left himself defenseless when he was most vulnerable? The king was unmarried, and therefore alone in his chambers. So why no guards? It was troubling, to say the least. 

He observed the doors for two nights more, and it remained the same. No guards. Either the King was extremely confident or extremely foolish. Both, it seemed. But, despite the strange lack of security, Bruin knew he had to act soon. His employer was paying him very well for a subtle and quick job. 

The doors, he found, were unlocked. Ridiculous. He thought he should be thankful for how easy it was. Instead, he was unsettled. A chill made its way down his spine and he pushed the door open silently. No horrid death befell him upon entrance, which bolstered his confidence. A fool king indeed. 

Moonlight shone through half parted curtains. Sheets rustled lightly as the King turned in his sleep. Bruin paused, waited for the King to settle once more. A quiet _snick_ heralded his knife’s departure from its sheath. He stood over the King, a heady rush of adrenaline filling his veins as he prepared for the kill. He took a deep breath and brought his arm up, poised to strike.

A shout fled his lips, unbidden, as an arm wrapped around his torso. A hand caught his wrist, stilling the knife’s decent. The King’s eyes snapped open at the sound. He struggled as the hand stilling his wrist squeezed and slammed it against the headboard. He heard more than felt the snap of something in his hand as he released the dagger. 

He twisted in his captor’s grip, landing a solid blow on his face. The arms loosened and he turned on his attacker, pulling another knife in the same move. He caught a flash of gold before he was abruptly sent flying across the room. The air deserted his lungs as he collided with the wall. 

Cold metal was pressed flush to the skin of his neck. He looked up slowly at the king, whose sword was beginning to draw blood. He knew that if he made a move he would be dead in seconds. He slowly set the dagger on the ground. A bare foot kicked it away. 

“You,” Bruin snarled upon seeing that _damn_ servant. The sword at his neck pressed deeper and he grunted. 

“Don't look at him,” the King growled. Bruin swallowed, taking in the servant’s state of undress before pulling his eyes away. He got the feeling he wouldn't keep his head much longer if he allowed his gaze to linger. “Are you alright, Merlin?” The servant grunted. 

“I’m fine.” 

“He hit you,” the King hissed, eyes narrowing. Merlin sighed. 

“Yes, and he almost killed you. I'd say we’re even.” Clearly, the King did not agree. 

“Guards!” he shouted instead of pursuing the argument. Footsteps echoed down the hallway. “Search him and send him to the dungeons,” he ordered when the guards entered. The sword was removed from his throat and the King stepped back. 

He was forced to his feet and pushed face-first into the wall as they searched him. He allowed his gaze to slide sideways, watching the King and servant out of the corner of his eye. Seemingly uncaring of the guards, the King approached the servant. He gently grabbed his face, turning it to inspect the forming bruise on his cheek. Bruin wondered how he could have missed this. Now that he knew, it was obvious the affection the two displayed for each other. 

“It’ll bruise, but you'll live,” he grunted, not removing his hands from where they rested. The servant raised his eyebrows. 

“Oh? So I'll live? That’s good, I had doubts. It’s not like I already _said_ that or anything.” The King tugged his hair lightly in reprimand for his sarcasm. 

“Shut up _Mer_ lin. Smug is not a good look on you.” 

“Of course, Sire,” the servant replied with a smile. The King brushed a thumb gently across the bruise once more before he turned to face Bruin. The would-be assassin swallowed at his thunderous expression. 

“He’ll be questioned and executed for treason on the morn. Get him out of my sight.” 

As he was marched down the dark hallways, Bruin contemplated his failure. He would escape before the King had the chance to execute him; that’s what backup plans are for. He would leave and he wouldn't turn back. 

By the time first light spilled across the land, he would be gone and the King would wake to the news of his escape. He would consider this a lesson learned. But for now, he planned silently and the King slept peacefully alongside his lover.

**Author's Note:**

> Should I be doing school work? Yes, most definitely? Am I writing half-decent Merlin fanfic instead? The answer to that is ALSO yes, most definitely.


End file.
